low, which had only preceded by a few
moments a second no less horrible misfortune; for it was in the presence
of Rodin that Hardy had learned the unexpected departure of the woman
he adored. Painful to him must have been the sudden appearance of
Rodin. Yes, thanks to the salutary influence of Gabriel's counsels, he
recovered himself by degrees, and the contraction of his features being
succeeded by a melancholy calm, he said to Rodin: "I did not indeed
expect to meet you, sir, in this house."

"Alas, sir!" answered Rodin, with a sigh, "I did not expect to come
hither, probably to end my days beneath this roof, when I went, without
being acquainted with you, but only as one honest man should serve
another, to unveil to you a great infamy."

"Indeed, sir, you then rendered me a true service; perhaps, in that
painful moment, I did not fully express my gratitude; for, at the same
moment in which you revealed to me the treachery of M. de Blessac--"

"You were overwhelmed by another piece of painful intelligence," said
Rodin, interrupting M. Hardy; "I shall never forget the sudden arrival
of that poor woman, who, pale and affrighted, and without considering my
presence, came to inform you that a person who was exceedingly dear to
you had quitted Paris abruptly."

"Yes, sir; and, without stopping to thank you, I set out immediately,"
answered Hardy, with a mournful air.

"Do you know, sir," said Rodin, after a moment's silence, "that there
are sometimes very strange coincidences?"

"To what do you allude, sir?"

"While I went to inform you that you were betrayed in so infamous a
manner--I was myself--"

Rodin paused, as if unable to control his deep emotion, and his
countenance wore the expression of such overpowering grief that Hardy
said to him, with interest: "What ails you, sir?"

"Forgive me," replied Rodin, with a bitter smile. "Thanks to the
ghostly counsels of the angelic Abbe Gabriel, I have reached a sort of
resignation. Still, there are certain memories which affect me with the
most acute pain. I told you," resumed Rodin, in a firmer voice, "or was
going to tell you, that the very day after that on which I informed you
of the treachery practised against you, I was myself the victim of a
frightful deception. An adopted son--a poor unfortunate child, whom
I had brought up--" He paused again, drew his trembling hand over his
eyes, and added: "Pardon me, sir, for speaking of matters which must
be indifferent